


King and Lionheart

by loptr



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-12 13:52:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loptr/pseuds/loptr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has been slacking school for too long now, so ausent father John Winchester sends over a babysitter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	King and Lionheart

**01\. My hot babysitter**

The room was dark and humid. Much to John’s dismay, the strong and nauseous combination of tobacco smell and sweet cheap perfume were everywhere, on the clothes, bed sheets, curtains... Everything about that room- No, everything about the whole motel was really awful. He didn’t have any other options, though, so he was conformed.

He’d been trying to get out of bed, but the stingy laziness of losing a lead, had been so close to finding out important clues about the whereabouts of Mary and then just losing it… Punches a man’s will to the bottom of a pit. He honestly was so tired and so annoyed that not even the maid was free from hearing cranky complaints about the cleaning. She wasn’t that much of a bright smiley person either, but John was achieving a conquest there. Number one grumpiest man. Plus, he was alone and missed his family.

At some point, he almost decided to get out of bed - but returned quickly at seeing a cockroach strolling by the bathroom door and cocooned in two layers of blankets. He stayed put for mostly two hours before the loud sound of an alarm finally snapped him out of it, ringing from his laptop on the one table that he had in the corner of the room. Slow, weak, John Winchester rose up from his hideout and paced towards the small computer. A new e-mail had arrived.

“Lawrence High School,

Student Support Partition

Dear Mr. John Winchester,

It is with profound preoccupation that we, yet again, hope to reach you at any circumstances to alert you on respect of your son, Dean Winchester. We wish to alert you once again for the alarming situation at our hands and we can no longer subside. Mr. Dean Winchester has failed the Eleventh Grade and upon seeking to help him through, he seems uninterested and indifferent about the matter. At his second attempt we decided to be condescending and a chance was given, thus the graduating of Junior High, but right now we can no longer afford to look away from the extremely low grades and bad behavior. Much different from his younger brother, Dean seems to have no care for his studies or this institution. We are bewildered and hope to hear news from you on this matter of utmost relevance.

Best regards, Counselor Zachariah Jones.”

The keyboard was mashed as the fist hit it with a loud thud. Ok, someone was in trouble.

 

“Dude, you are so deep in trouble,” Sam Winchester preached the truth as he finished reading the e-mail he just got from his father. His older brother Dean lifted his head from what he was doing, just peacefully frying some bacon on the other side of the kitchen. He frowned, trying to read into the info he had just received but as expected, it was too little.

“You’re gonna have to give me more than that, Sammy.”

“Dad found out about your school situation.” Sam literally saw the life drain out of Dean’s eyes. He gasped, leaving everything behind as he sprinted through the room to get to Sam and read it for himself. He had such a face that the younger brother had a hard time keeping himself from chuckling. Sam had his belongings sprawled across the dining table, mostly books and notebooks, pencils, pens and rulers and on top of a couple thin books rested his companion laptop.  He was a boy fond of studies, an A+ student, quite the opposite of Dean. It wasn’t very nice of him to think it was good that Dean got in trouble, but at least he was sure that now, FINALLY, Dean would be doing some work on his grades.

The e-mail had the following contents:

“Sam and Dean,

I’m sending someone to keep you in line. I got an e-mail from the school about Dean and guess what? I’m unhappy.

I can’t go back right now and although this scold is going to sound weak, keep your head down cause this isn’t over. Until I am able to straighten you up, I’m going to get some help from an acquaintance. Wait for instructions as to when your BABYSITTER is arriving.”

“Jesus Christ, I’m done for. He’s putting a leash on me, a fucking leash!” He rebelled, kicking chairs and slamming his hand on the wall, “I can’t believe this!”

“Dean, come on, really? …You asked for this, you were negligent. I told you thousands of times to-” Dean interrupted without hesitating even a bit, gritting his teeth in anger.

“Sam, don’t you start with this stupid ‘I told you so’ prattling. You know I have no time for school, I WORK. Just so you can buy your neat little douchey stuff. You have an iPod, now, that’s great! Who the fuck was it who bought it for you?” Dean slammed down his fist on the table, Sam jumping in his seat a little, “Not dad!”

“Dean…” Sam knew his brother had a point, but not a valid one, “It doesn’t justify slacking. You could have put a minimum effort on your studies, the least you could’ve done was keeping a mediocre standard, but you neglected _everything_ fully. Slack.” The younger boy blathered once more, being extremely pedantic. Dean could’ve knocked the _pedanticism_ right out of the block, but he restrained himself from doing so and went out without saying another word. Sam watched in silent.

Well, he was feeling a little bad for his brother after all.

 

They were both sprawled on the living room’s main sofa, large and covered in brown worn-out velvet. The room wasn’t very big and since there was a bunch of stuff (not practical stuff for living rooms but their PERSONAL belongings and they were everywhere) and it would make the room seem even smaller. Notebooks and notes; skaters that nobody ever used _ever;_ Dean’s toolbox and polisher for his Chev (a very nice black Impala); Sam’s old toys that were never thrown out in the garbage because they have ‘emotional value’; a spear; a bunch of car parts that were too trashed to be used but too hard to find otherwise, so Dean would keep them; a guitar (touched and played once on a Christmas eve for five seconds before taking major damage caused by a fire Sam caused on one of his few experiments at the kitchen oven); a statue of a very ugly owl and a harpoon. Which, of course, is cool because harpoons are badass, but useless, nonetheless.

The decoration was a bit exotic to say the least but it was very cozy on its own way. It had a familiar aura to it, with all the toys and the stuff that contained so many memories. But none of those had any relevance at the given situation. They were too busy dealing with John’s punishment for Dean to be contemplating the ambient.

They received instructions, just as John had said before, on a very polite and charming letter written by a gentleman named Balthazar. As Dean glanced thoroughly the sheet of paper that seemed so expensive on it’s own, he scanned the facts and all things considered his score was still positive. The “babysitter”, they found out, was a girl. Cassie O’Cullinan. She was in Junior High, youngest of the family. Tall, brunette with sapphire blue eyes, as described on the letter. A girl was going to move in, apparently very _very_ hot chick keeping her eyes 24/7 on Dean Winchester wasn’t such a bad thought. They had to pick her up at the airport on the last Saturday night before schooldays were back. Strangely enough, the pronouns in the letter were really confusing, but Dean could care less.

Sam eyed him grumpily. It wasn’t fair, it couldn’t be. He thought that finally Dean was getting what he asked for, divine justice if you will, but then everything came out as a good thing for him (not good as in “it’s for your own good” but actual great outcome). Bottom line, Sam was really displeased with how everything always seemed to work out just fine for Dean, despite his knack for ignoring every single virtue Sammy believed in. Lack of effort on school matters, banging a different girl every time the Sun sets (also when the Sun rises).

“This is actually pretty sweet, Sammy. It’s good news!” Dean was all smiles, the most obnoxious type of smiles and the younger boy wanted to cry in a pillow, but instead he tried to ruin Dean’s fun time.

“You know… Ladies are not like guys, Dean. And-” The older Winchester stared at him like it was obvious and Sam waved it off, “No, let me finish. Girls are disgusted by basically everything. And you’ll have to deal with some criticism about your behavior…”

“Sounds like you. With, maybe, less bitching.” Dean snickered.

“Haha, very, _very_ funny Dean, but I’m serious. They are different. They bleed once a month.”

Dean cringed, that was a part he didn’t want to remember. Sam continued, “And she wouldn’t be like the chicks you hook up with. She’s a rich, traditional girl with commitment to studies and you think you’ll get in her pants that easy? Dream on, dude.”

“It’s almost like you don’t know me at all…” Dean made the worst face possible, smirking and raising one eyebrow like he was remembering old times, “And the nerdy ones are actually the kinkiest-”

“OKAY.” Sam decided to shut him up before he was too mentally screwed.

 

Dean was eager during the whole afternoon when Saturday finally arrived. Sam was okay, all things considered. He was content, not very happy with it, but his initial anger with the turnabout was dismissed when Dean’s good mood proportioned them to have a good breakfast, he would only cook that much when something good was about to happen. And in his conception, having a girl living with them was the best thing ever.

In retrospect, Sam also thought that Dean would fall off his horse when he finally realize that the girl would NOT be easy like every other he had slept with. So it would be a punishment after all. All was good and right once again with the cosmos.

Six past noon, they were driving at full speed, Dean being so eager to meet his new roomie like he never even had one, even though Sam had lived with him his entire life. The Impala drove smoothly all the way to the airport, the music beaming through the sound boxes at the sides of the car, strings and chords of violent guitar soaring the tune of Metallica’s “One”.

They parked nearby and went inside. There were so many people in there they couldn’t move very well. They looked around some, regretting not thinking this through. How would they even recognize Cassie? God knows how many brunettes there could be in the airport.

“I think we should’ve made a sign to draw her attention because how are we gonna find this girl, now?” Sam sighed, not in the mood to serve as a megaphone and scream like a retard to find the lady. The crowd kept pushing them and squishing them so Dean decided to move away to a more empty area, at least while they think about the problem at hand.

“Maybe the flight is running late?” Dean suggested once they found a calm spot. Sam shoved his hand down his pocket and fumbled around until he found something that turned out to be a piece of paper. “I wrote the number of the flight, uh… DL 23849.”

Upon seeing it on the panel, they noticed the flight had already landed. Dean frowned deeply… As deep as a frown can be. “So she’s already here? I can’t…”

Someone distracted him from completing the sentence. A deep, low and hoarse voice sounded in the ears of the Winchesters.

“Excuse me.” As they turned to look at the owner of such voice they faced a tall guy, seemingly as old as Dean, but even being tall he would still not match either of the boys. They were giants, no big deal. Ebony short and cut clean hair, but disheveled as a counterpoise. The boy was wearing crumpled clothes, but they seemed to be so expensive at the same time. His trenchcoat… Overcoat, it was an overcoat, seemed a little too big for him, it didn’t fit properly, but the sweater vest, red tie and white button-up dressed just fine. The coat was the only thing that seemed a little bit odd. But none of this was nothing compared how strange the eyes were.

There was this eeriness that glistened in the cerulean eyes of the stranger. He looked directly into Dean’s eyes, stare so intense that he might as well be about to tell him he was an angel. Fortunately it wasn’t the case. And thankfully Dean snapped out of it before the guy started talking.

“I am looking for someone and I’d like to know if you can point me to the main desk. I wish to announce their names as I was told to, and to follow said instructions I should go to an announcer.”

It rang as a very sound and logical idea to the brothers and Dean smiled, satisfied with the solution, “Ah, and there you have it, Sammy. We can take this guy to the main desk and announce Cassie.”

“Yeah, it sounds plausible. Come with us…” Sam turned to look at the boy, but he was staring at them and again he had this _intense_ curious look. It was like the guy was freaking Tyra Banks, he was too fierce all the time. It was off-putting, but little Sammy was too polite to point that out, “I-Is something the matter?”

Blue eyes alternated between the two Winchesters and he stepped closer, “You are looking for Cassie. He called you Sammy.”

They exchanged worried looks. The dude was seriously weird. “Uh, yeah?”

“Are you two by any chance Sam and Dean Winchester?” and the confusion only grows.

“… Who’s asking?” Dean automatically stiffened his face, expression becoming suspicious. The boy locked eyes with the older Winchester and tilted his head, confused as to how had Dean not made the connection yet.

“I am Castiel O’Cullinan.” He said matter-of-factly, but Dean did not react, as if that meant absolutely nothing. Sam, on the other hand, cackled on the spot, closing his mouth with both hands, containing his laughter at his best. He didn’t want Dean to realize the obvious yet.

“Castiel… Uh, no offense but I don’t… know…” His speech slowed down as the truth dawned on him, like a punch in the stomach. “O’Cullinan… Castiel… Cas… You… _You’re Cassie?!_ ” His eyes became two billiard balls, jaw dropped and Sam burst out laughing, bending with both arms pressing his stomach, body shaking with the blast.

“Uh… Balthazar calls me Cassie, but I prefer Cast-”

“CASSIE IS A DUDE?!”

“I’M GONNA PEE OH MY GOD…”

 

The whole ride back home was uncomfortable, filled with social silence. The sole sound in the car was Dean’s obnoxiously loud music, which wasn’t any better than absolute silence because the driver was still basically emanating anger. Sam was smiling, completely accomplished and Castiel, in the back seat, switched his attention from one brother to the other, trying to understand the situation that had not been explained to him at all.

Why was the fact that Castiel was a man a surprise; why was said fact so funny; why didn’t Dean want to talk about it and most importantly why were they calling him Cassie before. He asked for a plausible explanation but none was given. Dean basically gave him the extremely cold shoulder and took his luggage from him. Sam did nothing but shrug.  And then it was awkwardness for the rest of trip. At some point they were able to hear Dean growl and Sam snicker in his place and then Dean just shout that it wasn’t funny and the car went back to the social silence.

They got home safe and sound and silent and as soon as Sam closed the door behind him the stranger in the house finally started telling what he came for. “Dean, Sam, you must know I am here on a mission. I’m not here because I want to, but because I was given orders to watch _you_.” He turned specifically towards Dean and stepped closer, invading his personal space without a care in the world. It didn’t seem intimidating. It was almost like that weird boy wasn’t even aware that he was overstepping boundaries. He did it as if it was a very ordinary thing to do. “I won’t be of any bother as long as you do as I say.”

That, probably, was the moment when Sam heard a nerve in Dean’s brain snap. He stopped laughing because he saw his big brother’s eyes change very abruptly. Dean lifted his chin a bit, looking at Castiel from above, lips pursed and one eye twitching slightly as he began to speak, “Alright, listen up. I don’t care if my father sent you, I wouldn’t care if he’d sent the freaking Pope, I’m not gonna bend over and let you do whatever you want to.”

Castiel squinted, not pleased with Dean’s tone, but hey nobody was pleased with anybody’s tone. The taller man’s voice got lower, calmer and deadlier and he leveled his eyes with the blue ones. “If dad were here, I’d listen. He isn’t, and I’m not taking orders from a fucking stranger. So you can either: repent, back off and pretend you’re blind and deaf in this house, causing you to report absolutely nothing, to no one, or you can just hurry back home. I’ll pay for the trip if you need.”

“I choose neither.” Cas didn’t back off at all, didn’t even blink at the threat. Maybe it didn’t sound like a threat to him, or maybe and more likely, he just didn’t scare that easily. “I am an authority here. Your father requested assistance and they sent me for a reason. I’m going to watch you closely and you, on the other hand, have no choice. You must do as I say.”

“Oh yeah?” You must imagine that it didn’t actually jingle Dean’s happy place to be intimidated by someone smaller than him. His eyes were so intense at this point that the air surrounding him had a tension that could be cut with a knife. “Try me.”

Before anything else could happen, Sam snapped out of his shock to intervene, “Wow, guys, guys… C-calm down for a second now, let’s be rational. Dean, you have to work with Castiel. You were okay when you thought he was a girl…” Dean shot him a glare that could kill, possibly, so he had to defend himself as quickly as possible, “Okay uh not a good time for jokes… But dude, you _have_ to. You know what, if dad DOES come around, it won’t be so happy for you. And… You always listen to what he says, even when he’s being a di-… Unfair, even when he’s being unfair.” Dean’s face softened when he thought about disrespecting a direct order. He didn’t like being bossed around, but he disliked the idea of disobedience even more… Eh, figures. He turned back to look at Castiel right when the boy decided that he’d do something else besides standing there and staring at Dean’s face like a creep. He took the luggage from the older Winchester’s hand and paced away from him.

“I’d like to see my room, if it’s not too inconvenient.” He asked Sam softly; much different from the way he’d been talking to Dean up until now. Sam felt a bit disoriented and baffled, but he muttered something and motioned to Cas to follow him. “T-this way, it’s right upstairs, at the end of the hallway.”

“Sleep well, _Cas.”_ Dean still provoked him slightly; putting so much weight on the nonchalant nickname that ‘Cas’even stopped walking. He didn’t say a thing, nor turned around, even. He just stood there for five seconds in silent, before going back to following Sam upstairs.

Sam didn’t think it was so funny anymore. He felt so uncomfortable back then and they were just staring at each other and the voices and ugh it was like two predators on a face-off. Didn’t really like to watch conflicts, little Sammy, because usually the one causing it was himself. He’d fight John for anything, while Dean would try to mend things his own Dean-way. But this time it was so much harder for Sam! He had to _arbitrate_. Mediate, for God’s sake! How could he ever tell Dean not to do something? He couldn’t, simple like that. He was just so _so_ screwed. And this guy, Castiel, didn’t seem like the type that would listen anyway. Well, maybe they just started off with the wrong foot. Sam would pray to the Heavens before going to bed tonight. Maybe they’d get along!

… Somehow he thought that was a long shot. And yeah, they would have a whole semester of coexistence in the same house, so things could get tricky. But maybe that’s exactly what Dean needed in his life: a weird serious nerd boy telling him what to do and pushing all the wrong buttons. He hoped for the better and went to his room.

Said nerd boy wish he didn’t think anything of the situation at all, but he had a troubled mind. He had a mind full of questions, which did not suit a soldier like himself. Uh, metaphorical soldier, he didn’t actually fight unless it was really necessary.

After setting up his bedroom properly to the best of its condition, he walked calmly towards the veranda and rested his hands on the grid, observing his new surroundings and feeling the nocturne cold breeze. He had to act tough, as he was instructed, but he was so lost. He didn’t really know where he was… He didn’t even know who John Winchester was, but he had direct orders from his brothers to help this man because he had done much for them. And Cas followed every order without questioning, but… He couldn’t help but wonder. He wishes he had asked about this man, maybe Balthazar or Anna would have told him. Or maybe asked about those boys, because this Dean kid was nothing he had ever dealt with.

To be quite honest, Cas has only ever dealt with his own family. He didn’t go out, he was homeschooled. Everyone in the family was. He’d be the first one to study in a public school and that was a bit depressing, but he could admit to himself that he was interested. He had never known anything out of what he learned on his nest. He was a bit awkward even among his brothers, actually; maybe his personality was just like that. He didn’t get jokes easily; he didn’t know how to behave on social situations and didn’t have people skills at all. And yet, there he was, assigned a mission as hard as dealing with people he’d never seen before and trying to change their way of life.

Cas comprehended it was extremely bad to have a stranger inside your own house telling you what to do, but orders are orders. And the orders he would follow. Dean Winchester was a causality, a person that apparently could not be uneducated for some reason that were of much interest for his family... He frowned as he realized he was getting too deep in thought on something that didn’t concern to him. Oh well. He blinked, starting to feel sleepy, his lids starting to weight more than they should. He gazed one last time at the bright night before sighing tiredly and recoiling back inside. Long days were to come and he needed rest.

**Author's Note:**

> well that was tough! i never write stuff but this pairing have been nudging me in this direction since the beginning so i finally gave in. artwork can be found at tumblr (castiey.tumblr.com)


End file.
